


Hello World, Hope You're Listening

by linettispaghetticonfetti



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Episode: s05e02 The Big House Pt. 2, F/M, Home, Missing Scene, One Shot, Prison, more angst because this is all i know i guess, the angsty teen phase never ends if you're a fic writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linettispaghetticonfetti/pseuds/linettispaghetticonfetti
Summary: Growing up, Jake didn’t really have a home. His mom’s house was where he lived, sure, but the stench of tension and adultery and loneliness left him disconnected from that place. The closest thing he had now was his place with Amy. The weird lace curtains and floral patterns and lingering scent of lavender cleaning solution are so uniquely her and he wants to get back to that so badly, forever, always.(Inspired by OneRepublic's "Come Home")





	Hello World, Hope You're Listening

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with a one shot! I got excited to write again, this song came up on a playlist, and everything came together so I felt compelled to write this instead of sleep. Enjoy!

_“Guilty.”_

As soon as he hears those words, he sees everything in his world falling--no, _breaking_ \--no, _shattering_ \--apart. There’s just something so calamitous and uncontrollable about this moment that no word seems to do the feeling justice. He had finally decided to get his life together and propose to Amy. He finally saw some sort of fulfillment in his life, and suddenly it was being ripped away from him because of corruption.

He feels hollow. Like a vacuum has sucked out every piece of happiness inside of him, as hard as he’s trying to hold onto it and now he’s just empty.

For the first few weeks in prison, he maintains his grip of reality by planning the proposal. Halloween, he decides. _Remember those heists? You’ll be back at those in no time,_ he tells himself.

Growing up, Jake didn’t really have a home. His mom’s house was where he lived, sure, but the stench of tension and adultery and loneliness left him disconnected from that place. The closest thing he had now was his place with Amy. The weird lace curtains and floral patterns and lingering scent of lavender cleaning solution are so uniquely _her_ and he wants to get back to that so badly, forever, always.

\---

They’re sitting in the parking lot of the prison. Amy is in the driver’s seat of their rental car in a dark blue coat, hair down and messy. Jake is sitting there in a blue hoodie, but no leather jacket.

Amy wants to say something so badly, but she can’t find the words. _What do you say to your boyfriend who’s about to be imprisoned for God-knows how long? When the potential to free him rests squarely on your own shoulders?_

As she stammers and stares intensely into his deep brown eyes, forcing herself to remember every fleck and crease and shade while she still could, Jake pulls her face towards his and kisses her.

No words are spoken. Amy just tries to remember the feeling of his fingertips running through her hair, his warm nose pressing against her cheek. She can taste salt from tears, but she can’t discern who they belong to.

He finally releases as two armed guards approach the car.

“It’s time,” they shout through the closed window.

Amy looks at Jake. “I love you. You mean everything to me. You are so strong.”

Jake has a plastered smile that doesn’t quite meet his worried, watery eyes. “I love you too. And we’ve been through worse, right? We can do this.”

Jake exhales sharply as he opens the passenger door, leaving himself to the will of the guards. But not before he squats down to look at Amy and mention,

“Oh, and I left a super dope CD mixtape in there. Just to make sure your music taste doesn’t fall out of touch, _again_.”

Amy narrows her eyes. “Hey, ABBA is coming back! They’re doing a second Mamma Mia.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, with the B-sides! This is why you need me.”

The two armed guards forcibly take Jake into the prison before she can tell him, “ _Yes. I do need you.”_

And in the grand scheme of things, the world seems to have a funny way of working things out for her. But usually, there’s a feeling in her heart attached to it. Like a single ray of sunshine soaking up the weight of her worries.

But not this time.

As she watches as her boyfriend become a smaller and smaller speck in her field of vision until she can finally justify leaving the parking lot to herself, all she can think about is what if they don’t make it this time? What if she can’t figure it out?

She hits play on the car stereo. “PILLOWTALK” by ZAYN begins playing. She turns the volume all the way up. She uses it to drown out her sobbing.

\----

Her phone starts buzzing. Her instinct at this point is to send it to voicemail, but this time, she looks. Unknown number.

She decides to take the call in case it’s someone with information about Jake, or the prison telling her something had happened.

_Oh God. Anything but the latter._

She takes a deep breath. “Hello, this is Detective Amy Santiago.”

_“Ames.”_

She recognizes that gentle and contagiously chipper voice immediately. Every part of her lights up with joy. “Jake! It’s so good to hear your voice.”

Jake gets equally excited when he hears his (hopefully) future fiancee’s strong, impassioned voice in his ear. Because for that brief moment, all of the fear, the rage, the hopelessness he holds is released. He closes his eyes, exhaling softly through his nose. “Yeah, it’s good to hear yours, too.”

They talk for some amount of time that feels infinite yet far too short all at once, like time bends so they can have this one single moment of light in this otherwise dark situation. But Amy can hear Jake being violently threatened by someone. She furrows her brow.

_“That sounded bad. Is everything okay?”_

Jake sits on this for a moment, assessing the weight of this question. “Yeah. I’m talking to you.”

And he means it. God, the whole world could disappear and he would be fine as long as Amy Santiago was there to travel that space abyss with him.

They both sit there in silence for a minute, soaking in those words. But finally, something much stronger hits Amy.

“Jake, I really want you to come home. I _need_ you home.” She knows that’s selfish of her today--he’s struggling enough already--but she just

“I know. I will be,” he responds confidently. Or at least, confidently enough that Amy lets herself believe it to be true. “ _Shit_. Gotta go. Love you.”

“I love you t--”

The call ends. That night, Amy brings her phone into bed with her, just in case he calls again, and suddenly this big empty apartment feels a little cozier.

Jake brings a small sketch of an engagement ring that he’s been doodling. This prison cell suddenly feels a little more like home.

\----

Amy stands in that dreary parking lot, again. But this time, it symbolizes hope for her. She checks her watch feverishly, waiting for 10:35 AM.

It’s 10:38. Where is he? The guards _promised_ her he would be out.

She looks up and sees a familiar shape in the distance. _Jake._

Jake watches as Amy jumps up and down, waving her arms. Forgoing all dignity, he runs. He leaves behind every feeling of loneliness and hurt and anger in the dust; those things can’t catch him as he nearly sprints into her arms.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” he mutters into her hair.

“Me too, and I’ve been fighting for you and for this for months,” she responds over his shoulder. She pulls away. “But you’re shaving the beard when we get home.”

 _Home._ He was beyond excited to step into their apartment again. To be in _their_ bed. To drink milk out of the carton from _their_ fridge.

He grins. “Alright. I can live with those terms.”

Amy sleeps on the entire flight back to New York. He can’t blame her. He knows that she’s been working double shifts for the past few months just to free him. So he just leans his head on top of hers and rubs her hand with his thumb, and for now, that’s enough.

\------

Jake stands in their bedroom looking through his wardrobe for nice clothes to wear out tonight. As he looks down at the messy pile of blue shirts, he realizes how lackluster his return to the apartment has felt. As much as he dreamed about the taupe walls and the blue bedsheets, he still feels like a part of him is missing, like he’s floating and can’t seem to find ground anywhere.

Amy walks up behind him. “I have something for you.”

She grabs his shoulder.

Every muscle in his body tenses. He has to fight his learned prison instinct to grab the wrist and throw, hard. Instead, he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. _1, 2, 3…._

“I...I got your leather jacket dry cleaned. Good as new,” she says quickly. She faces him, eyebrows raised gently. “Jake, are you sure you want to go out tonight? I think everyone would _definitely_ understand if you just wanted a night at home.”

He feels her hands reach for his. Suddenly, he’s reached ground. The whole is complete. “No, sorry, I’m alright. I’m good to go out tonight. Because _you’re_ my home, Ames. Always have been. As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

Amy smiles softly. “Okay. Let’s do this then.”

Jake puts on his beloved leather jacket as they begin walking out of the bedroom. “But if Charles asks me to try any weird shots involving animal meat again, I’m leaving!”

Amy grins as she closes the door behind them.


End file.
